


Heaven

by orphan_account



Category: Moby Dick - Melville
Genre: Age of Sail, Ficlet, M/M, Male Protagonist, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Past Tense, Porn Battle, Smut, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-04
Updated: 2008-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Heaven

Whalers from Christian lands believe firmly in the Bible and the laws of God, as they should, since piety is never more common as when there's nought between life and death but chance and God's grace. They also believe in letting each man's soul be his own affair, as a man must if he's to spend a year or more in the same company, and if not all the men are Christian, so be it and may their gods help them, too. Of course, if a Christian broke the laws of God, he'd be hardly better than a Jonah.

This was all true on the _Pequod_, too, at first. But as days went on and as the captain and crew were all whipped further and further into madness and rage against nature, piety broke down. The captain and the ship were crying out a challenge to God, and in the close sight of Hell men found Heaven where they could.

For those first few months when the ship was like any other whaler, I remember how I longed for Queequeg and Queequeg longed for me. It was hard to explain to him why we couldn't meet in whatever nook in the ship was not being used and take pleasure in each other, and it broke my heart to have to say so. But things changed, and one day, full of despondency and desperation, I walked boldly into the harpooners' cabin and looked Queequeg in the eye. There was only Tashtego there with him, and he saw the look that passed between us and quietly left, pushing past me as he went. Queequeg's eyes turned soft and warm, and in a moment we were in each other's arms, kissing, clinging like we did in those happy days in the Spouter Inn.

We meshed our lips together, hard at first, then soft, our tongues slipping against each other. His big hands pushed my shirt off my shoulders, and I undid his trousers, but for the first ten minutes we could do nothing but feel each other, to revel in the luxury of touch. My heart lifted with love as my hands slid across his strong dark frame, taking in the warmth of his skin, the taste of sweat on his neck. Then we began kissing again, and he touched my sex, which had been hard for him for months, and our caresses became more heated. Soon I was bent over the small table and his fingers were inside me, stroking and spreading and moistening me until I begged him in a string of obscenities to sodomize me, soon, now, and he did, his savage member spreading me wider still, until I felt as gaping as the mouth of Hell, or church doors on Sunday - I could not decide which, for then he was filling me again and again until I nearly wept with the ache and with unspeakable pleasure.

We rolled with the ship, the sharp edge of the table on my belly, Queequeg's hand on my member again, fucking hard, until the crescendo reached a pitch, and I nearly fainted as I came. Through my dizziness I felt the heat of his seed inside me, deep enough to warm my bowels. With it came the warmth of pleasure and love and life that spread all through me, body and soul, heart and mind.

We might all be going to Hell, but here was Heaven, as we knew when we held each other afterwards, naked and sticky, mouth to mouth, breathing defiantly in the midst the cold, the wet, the dark.


End file.
